Small Time Magic
by saiyuri-dahlia
Summary: Ken and Miyako spend time together and share sweet moments at Japan's Obon Festival. Pairing: Kenyako.
1. Chapter 1

Story Title: Small Time Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon 02.

Author's Notes: I do use the Japanese names out of preference, but my characterization is based on the US English Dub. That being said, it has been years since I have watched said series, so I am relying on my memory, research, and intuition. I have more 02 stories in the making. Most are Kenyako. Don't know when I'm going to post though…

Thanks for reading. Story inspired by and created with the song "Firelight" by Snow Patrol.

Chapter One: One Night Is All We Need

It all feels like a dream, Ken thought, in that hazy memory, not-sure-if-this-is-happening-but-might-as-well-enjoy-it sort of way. Or a picture book painted in diluted watercolors, more water than paint so that the colors bleed into subtle suggestions of shapes and structures rather than concrete lines and figures.

Ken stood by a banner and waited for his parents. Like many on this warm August night, he wore a yukata, single-color navy blue. Night was just beginning, the fading orange and white-yellow of the day bleeding into the ink of indigo and blues of night. The road to Hajime Temple was lined with carnival stands. Food, games, keepsake stands, sturdily built but easily disassembled, were each more vividly displayed than the last with a rainbow of brightly colored banners and flags, shops distinguished with bold, clear hiragana and kanji, goods pleasingly and eye-catchingly arranged, and well-lit with electric lanterns designed to resemble traditional round paper lanterns. The air was sweet with the wafting scent of yakisoba and takoyaki as the okonomiyaki grills hissed and the bright-eyed children with their families laughed and talked as they pass by.

Obon Festival had a power, like an enchantment more than any physical force, over children. At least to Ken when he was little, much less now that he is a bit older. But it did seem magical when he was five. Especially the way the carnival seemed to sprout overnight transforming the quiet drive to the steps of Hajime into a revelry. After three days, the festival vanishes by morning. The last day is the best. When he was younger, Ken enjoyed the Obon Festival carnival.

Purchases in hand, his parents walked up next to him. Their presence awakened him from his reverie, devoid of significant thought. They continued on their way, up the road and through the steady traffic of fellow families, couples, and solo spectators.

Then Osamu died and after he died, Ken didn't want to go, refused if his parents asked. To a little kid, Obon was just a carnival. His parents told him that during Obon, Osamu like the rest of the Ichijouji family was coming back for a visit and that his mother and father were going to leave gifts and offerings at the temple. The Obon after Osamu died, Ken hid under his covers for three days thinking his brother's virulent spirit was going to drag him to Hell for vengeance for accidentally wishing him dead. Though he was terrified, a part of him desperately wished Osamu would appear that night. But he didn't. It was foolish, but of course, that was then and he was younger.

"Hey Ken!"

Ken looked around certain that he heard his name called. So far, within the ocean of faces, he couldn't recognize anyone. His name was pretty common, must have been for someone else.

"Ken!"

A girl his age smiled and waved. Ken cringed and quietly groaned. She had to be a fan of his, back when being Ken Ichijouji meant perfection, national interviews and press, and intellectual and athletic stardom. Basically when it meant something to be Ken Ichijouji.

His mother tapped his shoulder, "Ken, at least have the courtesy to wave back."

Ken reluctantly complied, smiling awkwardly as he waved. Oh great, she's walking toward me, he thought, sinking into his yukata. Hopefully she wouldn't make a scene. As of lately, Ken's name was just starting to fall into obscurity as a minor blip in the long continuous line of discovered prodigal children. But anyway, the girl…

"Miyako?" Ken barely recognized her.

"Who did you think it was?" She smiled, giggling cutely at his confused expression.

But she was different, still Miyako but not. Her glasses were gone. Her hair down like usual but curled softly in delicate waves, framing her face quite nicely. In a periwinkle yukata patterned with silvery blue morning glories so real Ken was sure their fragrance perfumed the air, Miyako was…momentarily he lost his train of thought just looking at her…Miyako was beautiful.

"Ken? Are you even listening?" Miyako said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

Her critical glare snapped him from his rapt adoration. "Ah! Sorry, Miyako..." He sighed. Different look, same Miyako.

Ken's mother asked if she was here alone. Miyako nodded no saying that she had come with her sisters but they went off with their friends like usual. Certain that she was too young to be left alone, Ken's mother nudged Ken forward and told him to go with her.

"How about it, Ken?" Miyako said. Even the way she smiled seemed more charming than usual.

At a loss for words, he nodded yes.

"Stay together and don't leave the festival. Your father and I will be here the entire time. We'll be watching the Bon Dance later, so if you need us, that is where we'll be. Okay, Miyako? Okay, Ken? Ken dear?"

Ken, his voice still hiding from him, managed to nod in reply before his parents waved goodbye and left. What just happened here? His normally wear a thousand layers in winter so you don't get a cold mother just sort of left him. He wasn't complaining—his mother loosening on her apron strings was the least weirdest thing he had ever experienced—just surprised. And besides, his devoted parents deserved some alone time.

Ken and Miyako continued up the street. Neither had said a word to the other. I don't know what to do, what to say, Ken thought. Not like I've had the chance to hang out with her outside of the Digital World. I was never alone either… Without the company of the other Chosen Children, Ken found it hard to stir up casual conversation with Miyako, though if you asked the others, they'd probably say that out of all of them, Miyako had the most in common, interests-wise, with him. Then why couldn't Ken think of anything? She knew more about him than he knew about her. Gaaah! Ken never felt so frustrated in all his life. Say something! Don't let this become awkward!

Or has that Digiegg already hatched? Ken sneaked a look. So far, she was happy. Smiling as ever before. Ken sighed. Calm down, it's Miyako, he reminded himself. Then why couldn't his heart stop fluttering? Or keep his mind straight? He caught another secret glance. Her eyes…how pretty the shine of her eyes were, basking in the warm glow of the paper lanterns hanging above…

"I really look different, don't I?" Miyako said. Ken nearly jumped out of his skin. "You don't have to stare, y'know. Just say it already."

"You do," he focused on the ground. How long did she know he was looking at her? He felt his cheeks turn pink.

"Contacts. Thought I would like them. Thought no one would tease me anymore." Miyako explained," BUT everybody ignores me now. So I'm going back to glasses. It's so frustrating. I make one _little_ change and everyone goes weird on me."

It may have not been the conversation he was expecting, but at least they were talking. "You do look a lot different without them."

"Ken, you didn't even notice me!" Ken winced, realizing she was right. Miyako groaned and hung her head. "My own family forgot I was even home. They thought I was one of my friends."

"It's not just the contacts," Ken said shyly.

"My sister Momoe did my hair for me. But of course mine doesn't curl very well. Look! It's practically straight again…" Miyako, fed up with seeing it, flicked her hair back and away from her face. Her hair was supposed to look like Mimi's new glamorous curls but the plan backfired. Literally. The curling iron caught on fire.

It doesn't look bad to me…Ken wanted to say but the words stayed in his head. Too nervous and shy, he kept his mouth shut in fear of sounding stupid. His stomach was all coiled in knots. His heart raced. Wasn't sure if he looked calm, but Ken tried to maintain some scrap of composure on the outside, even if his insides were quivering gelatin.

"I wanted to look nice…" Miyako pouted, staring downcast at her feet. If only for one night and especially now she was with Ken. Why couldn't she, Miyako Inoue, have one night being cool and beautiful and not the least bit of a dork? Maybe it was never meant to be. Like something in her chemical DNA that makes her flub up every time. She turned to Ken. "Do I look bad?"

He blanked, absorbed in her eyes, adorable even now in sadness. If only he could get the words out. Don't stammer. Don't stammer, he mentally repeated. But answer her. Quickly!

"No," he simply replied. Whether she believed him was another thing entirely.

Which she didn't. Miyako averted her gaze and returned it to the ground, "Thanks for trying but I know you're just saying that because you basically have to."

He stopped walking. Miyako followed suit. That's not true... His heart sank. Why won't you believe me? Ken, bottling all the courage within him and praying for more, held his bunched fists in determination at his sides and hung his head. "No, I'm not," he shut his eyes and blurted his feelings as swiftly as possible, "You _really_ look cute tonight, Miyako."

Silence. Ken raised up, slowly opened his eyes, and met her gaze. Miyako was frozen, eyes wide and lips slightly gaping in surprise. Red spreading across his face, Ken looked away, feeling some awkwardness settling in. Does she or doesn't she believe me? Ken desperately wondered, wishing he could read her thoughts. Miyako's smile glowed as she too averted her gaze while a blush warmed her cheeks. They began walking again, leisurely. As they passed a goldfish-scooping game, they met eyes once more. Ken and Miyako demurely giggled at themselves and each other.

"This can't be happening…" Miyako chattered excitedly. "This is usually the part in my dreams where I wake up." Ken raised a brow at her statement, regarding it curiously. Cliché as it was, she closed her eyes and pinched herself, just to be sure. Eyes open, everything was as it was. Miyako never felt so lucky in all her life! She and Ken…not fighting for their lives…together alone…and he actually complimented her! Miyako was lightheaded with joy.

Up ahead, a shaved ice cart, gleaming white among the lanterns, stood. Seizing the opportunity to make this the most magical night of her life, Miyako smiled, "Ken, let's get some." Taking his hand, she rushed him along.

Overly eager as usual, Miyako nearly yanked him to the ground when she grabbed his hand. But it was worth it, even if she had. The back of Ken's hand lay embraced in the curve of her palm as her fingertips wrapped in the space between his forefinger and thumb. Her thumb brushed the inside of his hand. It tickled. Her hand was warm and gentle like the rays of the morning sun, and as silly as it may have sounded, Ken wished he could wear her hand in his forever.

Unfortunately that was only as long as it took to reach the cart. As Miyako drew her hand away, Ken still felt her presence tingling on the surface of his hand.

"But I don't have any—"

"My treat, _this time_," Miyako interrupted as she removed a small purse from her vermilion obi sash.

—end chapter

Author's Notes: Originally, this was a simple oneshot, but it grew. By a lot. So how is it? Part two, a.k.a the ending, is on the way.


	2. Chapter 2

Story Title: Small Time Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon 02.

Author's Notes: Long time, no see, ne? Readers probably thought I wasn't coming back, but I never abandon stories. I just take a long time to update sometimes. I hope with this chapter and here on out, the story doesn't turn fluffy. I never intended it to be _too sweet_ that it becomes unbelievable or sickening. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Chapter Two: Finding The Right Words To Say

Near the shaved ice cart and away from the crowd were rows of stone benches lining the cobblestone walls that separated the festival from the surrounding pine forest. Under the tender lantern lights, Miyako and Ken sat eating their shaved ice, each enjoying their moment of normalcy differently. Miyako, beaming innocently, ate her strawberry-flavored ice avidly, making gleeful noises with every spoonful. Her dessert held her complete attention, blocking out the beckoning call of a shrill "catch a goldfish" attendant and the social murmur of the passing spectators. Ken, far more concerned with what now to say, was more sparing with his. Soon enough, however, Miyako caught him watching.

"I'm making a pig of myself, aren't I?" Miyako put her hand on the back of her head as she laughed nervously. "Why did I even ask? Of course, I am. That's why you're staring."

He shook his head no.

Ken was articulate but he could say everything he needed to say without a single word. Miyako couldn't. And she wasn't the kind of girl that could be satisfied with a simple headshake for an answer either.

"Then, tell me," her cheerful tone coaxed. "What was I doing wrong?"

"Nothing."

Miyako knew something was up, but Ken wasn't telling. "Hmp, fine. Be secretive," she replied in a huff, hating his reply, evidently by how she scratched at her dessert and wasn't scarfing it down anymore.

Ken tried to resist, reminding himself it wasn't important enough for her to know, but gave up. Hiding his answer wasn't worth the effort or worth having Miyako irritated at him. "There is no secret. You were doing nothing wrong. I don't know why you do but you shouldn't judge yourself so harshly." And he added with a smile, "Or assume others see you poorly."

"Oh…" Miyako softly uttered. His response seemed to pacify her and confuse her at the same time. Miyako was silent in thought for a moment, staring at the ground for so long Ken thought she was upset. And then, smiling, she slowly stirred her spoon in the ice and gazed dreamily off into the night, "So…how do you see me, Ken?"

Now definitely was not the time for his mind to mirror television static. Once again Ken was caught up in a conversation he never meant to start, only this time he set himself up for this discomfort. Miyako was waiting patiently yet excited and Ken _really_ didn't want to answer her. Only because tonight, his perception of her was being challenged and constantly changed.

"I see…" Ken cautiously began, losing his tenuous strand of thought staring into her hope-lit eyes. His exhale was drawn and slow as he suppressed his anxiety and started again, " I see…" She smiled and his stare was drawn to the movement,"…you have syrup on your lips."

"Ken!" Miyako turned away, frantically licking her lips and wiping her hand across her mouth. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He cringed, knowing it was too late to take back his words. That wasn't what I meant to say…sorry, Miyako. He felt like such a fool.

Presumably done, Miyako faced Ken. "Did I get it all?"

Her mouth was slightly open as she ran her red-stained tongue along her lips. Ken pinched his lips together, trying to stifle his laughter, but couldn't. Miyako gawked at him puzzled and a little insulted, and asked what was so funny. He didn't reply, too occupied with amusement to do so.

"Be serious, Ken," Miyako cracked a smile, "Do I…have syrup…"

She tried asking him again but watching him laugh made small laughs break between her words. Soon they were both laughing. At what exactly, who knows? Somewhere along the line, they forgot the reason—it didn't seem to matter anymore—and simply laughed for the joy of it, the sound, and feel of it.

Small tears welled in her eyes as Miyako dried her cheeks and started to calm down, "I think we needed that."

Ken nodded yes. The butterflies in his chest were still fluttering about. It's moments like this, he thought as Miyako slipped a stray lock behind her ear and smiled at him as charming as ever, that remind me how important it is for us to succeed. If we failed tomorrow, it's all over. No more smiles. No more holding hands. You and I would never get another chance to spend time together. And…I'd like to…I want to spend more time with you.

Miyako shuffled in her seat. He means well, Miyako thought, I know he's trying. Maybe I'm not making it easy for him. She wrapped her arms around him. Ken, in utter shock of her presence so near, sat motionless and turned several deepening shades of red. Though the embrace only lasted for a few seconds, it felt like half the night vanished.

"Well, it worked," she said, parting her hold around him.

They sat in silence. Miyako, happily swinging her legs back and forth, returned to her ice. Ken too in time, once the shock and surprise of Miyako's hug passed, picked up his spoon and normalcy reigned yet again. The melon syrup's verdant color reminded Ken of his partner digimon and he paused for an instant.

"I wish Wormmon could have came."

Miyako agreed, "Poromon begged me but I couldn't hide him. My sisters were already asking questions, so it was just easier if he stayed behind. Ah! That reminds me. I'm supposed to bring him back something!"

"I'll help you," Ken said.

They rose from the benches and threw away their empty plastic bowls in the trash. A globular moon lighted the black of night with a milky hue. Near the city, it was usually difficult to see the stars, or very many of them. On an evening so uncommonly clear, the twinkling stars in varying hues glittered the dark overhead.

Miyako and Ken were discussing what food, since neither could imagine what much use their partners would have with toys or goldfish, to bring back. In the distance, a conspicuous stooped figure wearing a tall dark blue hat and an identical trench coat caught Miyako's eye. She had seen it before. If only she could pinpoint where? The odd figure wasn't exactly a forgettable sight. Or common. A flash of recognition hit her and without thinking, she bolted ahead.

"Miyako?" Ken said, left standing and wondering if he said something wrong. "Where are you going?"

Yelling over her shoulder, her hair whipping into her face, Miyako called back, "It's Mummymon!"

Mummymon?! Ken raced to close up the increasing gap between them, "Miyako, wait!" What was she thinking? She didn't have Poromon. Ken didn't have Wormmon. Wasn't like he was expecting an attack during a normal evening at the Obon Festival, so he didn't bring his digivice or D-terminal. He assumed Miyako didn't either.

"We have to get the others!"

"No time!" Miyako replied and Ken knew she was right.

The distance between them continued to widen. Ken pardoned and excused himself many times over as he barged through the crowd, tightly packing and jostling around him, and tried to reach her. Miyako, wait...he thought. Ken tried calling to her over and over but his voice seemed to blend right into the crowd and she was too far ahead as he watched her light purple hair become a diluted memory.

Miyako weaved through people, keeping Mummymon constantly in her sights. Of all days, just as she was having a great time with Ken, he had to show up! Well, Mummymon wasn't going to ruin the Festival. Miyako Inoue was going to be sure of that!

"Stop, Mummymon!" she ordered. To no avail.

He turned, panicked, and dashed off. Fine. Not like Miyako expected him to halt, but it would have been nice. It's not exactly easy to run, much less keep up her quick pace with a flailing undead digimon, in a yukata and sandals.

Out of the festival grounds, he ran into the enclosing forest. The trees and brush were dense, making not only walking but seeing difficult. Even with the bright moon as a lamp, Mummymon was just a black roving shadow amongst the silhouetted foliage. The sound of his panicky, laborious gasps and wheezes guided Miyako in his general direction. Miyako slowed considerable as she wound around trees, but so did Mummymon. She lost the first sandal when the strap broke, the second probably slipped off when she hopped over a hollow log. Didn't know for sure. All that mattered was keeping up with Mummymon. Miyako, sprinting with little regard to the flora, winced as she ran through a briar patch. Pushing branches and bush limbs away from her eyes, sustaining tiny marks and cuts on her hands and arms, Miyako continued to follow.

"How long is he going to run?" Miyako said aloud. Come on, it had to have been at least fifteen minutes and he probably ran her around in circles. Of course neither time nor distance mattered, Miyako was going to chase him all night if need be. "Don't think I'm getting tired. 'Cause I 'm not!"

She saw Mummymon turn and look at her—it might have been a reflection off one of his gold buttons than an eye—before he headed off into a lit patch in the forest. Miyako slowed and walked into the clearing. Mummymon stood facing her at the other end of the clearing up to his disproportionate thighs in wispy green grass.

"Why here?" Miyako shouted.

"Isn't it obvious?" He smiled devilishly, "No people and there's much more room."

"That's not what I meant!" Miyako said curtly. Her hands were balled into fists and raised as she grew red, "You ruined my perfect night with Ken, you creep! How dare you show your ugly face in our world! It's bad enough I have to see it in the Digital World, but you showed up on what might be the greatest night of my life, so the least you could do is tell me what you're planning."

He shot her a sight of his stubby, pointed teeth as he leaned on his cane, "Nothing, my rude little Chosen Child. Merely observing the festivities until you provoked me…"

"As if I'd believe that."

"Believe what you will," Mummymon grumbled just before he transformed into his digimon form.

In the moonlight, his white bandages glowed with an ethereal light and emphasized the dark color of the leather bands around his limbs and the X across his chest. He pointed to her and said something, none of which she heard on account she was staring at the thick black claw jutting her way and realizing it looked sharper, more angular than she originally considered. Two steps forward, with the box-shaped, metal support braces on his legs creaking, Miyako ordered him not to come any closer. He paused, but not because of her. Narrowed eyes staring at her as he thought with his mouth open, Mummymon realized something was missing here. Something important.

His head held askew and bobbing along with his step, the dangling bandages from beneath the purple bandana flapping against his head, Mummymon approached Miyako. A crazed, laughing smile stretched across his thin mouth, "What _exactly_ are you going to do to me?"

"Well, I…" she gazed up at the looming digimon as he waited for what he was certain would be an amusing answer.

Miyako fluttered with a light nervous laughter," …I did something stupid, didn't I?"

Mummymon aimed the gun toward her head.

Miyako screamed. She ran, tripping on her feet and narrowly avoiding the white spectral beam crackling overhead. That was too close, Miyako thought, awestruck on the ground. Another blast veered to right of her. Now being not the time to sit idly around, Miyako scrambled onto her feet and dashed off. Mummymon's shots were erratic and always just missing her as the young girl darted around the clearing. He was either toying with her or really was just bad at aiming. Luck was on her side, for now, but Miyako knew she had to come up with something soon.

Deep breath. You can do this. Think, Miyako, think. She drew a blank and screamed out in frustration. Her options were few. A direct attack was pointless and suicidal—Miyako gave no more thought to a physical showdown. Running away into the forest was looking like the plan but even that idea she had her doubts about.

With a low, guttural chuckle, Mummymon repositioned his hold on the trigger, "Arukenimon will be happy we finally got rid of one of you little pests. This is turning out to be my lucky night!"

It's either take a chance or die, so here I go! Miyako turned, ready to bolt back into the black forest. Her third step in, the weight on her right foot shifted when she stepped down. Off-balance, Miyako's ankle wobbled from one side to the other. She met the ground. Gah! Not now, why now? Miyako, clutching her swelling, throbbing ankle, grimaced in pain. She pursed her lips together, refusing to let her weak whimpers escape, even though Miyako was afraid.

Mummymon hobbled toward her. He could have ended her where he was, but he didn't have all night to fire away at her. A couple more inches ahead and even he couldn't miss her. Gun raised, the barrel staring down at Miyako, the undead digimon grinned.

"Miyako!!" Adrenaline engulfed and utilizing the rewards of his years on the soccer field, Ken blazed across the clearing.

Mid-pulling the trigger, Mummymon, hearing the boy's voice, twisted around to investigate. All he saw was a blur of violet before the boy leapt and tackled him out of balance. The ray fired and arched and skewed across the air. Neither Ken nor Miyako saw where it finally hit. Their attentions were commanded elsewhere, toward Mummymon rising to his feet. A few incoherent angry words muttered from his wrinkled grey lips as he proceeded toward his new target, Ken.

"Enough!" Mummymon scowled, his claws back around the trigger. There was a deafening crack but the gun had not been fired yet. The noise continued, rolling and seemingly gaining momentum. Ken, facing Mummymon, saw the source before the undead digimon did and dove out of the way. The tree fell, laying out Mummymon and knocking him unconscious.

"Bingo! How lucky are we?" Miyako grinned, as if nothing bad had happened, as if both of them hadn't escaped plausible death, and managed to stand, albeit she was placing minimal pressure on her sore ankle, as Ken walked over, "Mummymon—"

Ken cut her words short.

"Don't you EVER run off like that again!" Ken said, "What were you thinking? You realize how incredibly _dangerous_ that was?" His frown was like an incision, straight and deep. Miyako closed her eyes and hung her head as he reminded her she could have been killed. Never had Ken been this cross with her and yet he didn't really seem angry. He was scared.

She thought he was going to scold her a bit longer but Ken surprised Miyako and took her in his arms and pulled her tightly to him. Close enough she could feel his heart beating as fast as Stingmon's wings in flight. Miyako rested her head on his shoulder. Ken needed to say nothing else. She understood.

"…I'm sorry. I was angry that the festival would get cut short and I wanted to protect it." Her eyes misted over, "It was stupid of me to go alone but…"

"It's okay, Miyako," Ken whispered and gently rubbed her back. He already forgave her. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I twisted my ankle. I don't think it's that bad however since it is feeling a bit better, so please don't worry." They looked back at Mummymon knowing they had to leave now and swiftly, in case he awakened.

Without hesitation, Ken put Miyako's arm around his shoulders and helped her walk. She told him not to worry, but he was obviously going to. Ken had been worried from the second she ran off. Despite her injury, Miyako was smiling. Ken's expression was stern and fixed on the next step ahead. He was determined to protect her, to get Miyako back to the festival safe. Miyako couldn't help but silently gaze at him, her heart fluttering in her chest. With everything that had happened today, how could she not?

—end chapter

Author's Notes: Okay, so I miscalculated the chapters. Chapter THREE will be the final chapter. Really, it will. I bet readers were hoping for a more mundane continuation and instead they ended up with this. I just hope I haven't ruined this story with the inclusion of Mummymon, whose characterization may be off but I hope it doesn't detract from the story. If I have, I apologize. Anyway, my complete focus will be on Ch 3, which will focus back on the Obon Festival.


	3. Chapter 3

Story Title: Small Time Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon 02.

Author's Notes: For such a small piece, it never should have taken me this long to update! For the wait, I apologize sincerely. My laptop was in the shop for a while, so I couldn't work on anything, but even after it was fixed, I had never-ending trouble with the final two scenes. Plus, I've been getting ready for my first possible bellydance performance and that's been taking most of my free time. Once again, I apologize.

Anyway, it's been fun writing this story but I'm glad it's _finally_ finished. I hope the wait has been worth it. To everyone who has read and reviewed this story, thank you and hearts to you. Special hearts to shef01animetize for the recommendation. (I haven't forgotten about that!)

Yay! My friend posted this chapter for me since my obsolete computer won't let me. Special belated thanks to April!!! Now onward to the ending!

Chapter Three: Keep You With Me Always

Ken looked over his shoulder, but only darkness and the shrill whirr of cicadas stood behind him. Good, he sighed, one less worry marked off his list as Miyako and Ken walked through the pitch-ink woodlands. Most of the time, they saw nothing, at times only the barest, moon-reflected silver off glossy leaves lit their way.

While they kept a good pace, twigs crackling underfoot, the absence of sight provided a hindrance in other places. Ken wished he could see Miyako's face, not just for his own dwindling morale, but to gauge if Mummymon's fright had left her more shaken than she let on. The problem was that Miyako had not said a word since she and Ken escaped the illuminated clearing, and for Miyako to be struck silent, there had to be a cause for concern.

But, reluctantly, that would have to wait. Following down a worn animal path, Ken paused at a split in the road. Of what Ken could make out of either side, neither trail seemed indicative that either would lead back to the festival. Ken's intuition was uncooperative, and triggering his memory amongst the indistinguishable, shadowed vegetation seemed unlikely.

"Hmm, doesn't seem any different... Miyako, which road should we take? It's up to you." Ken asked. She'd have to reply to him. He hoped she would. At least he could discern her feelings through her voice. If Ken could accomplish anything right now, he would at least know that Miyako was okay.

"You sure you want me to decide?" Miyako said riddled with uncertainty. "If it doesn't matter…" She spoke in hushed tones while her fingers tightly drew in and crumpled Ken's yukata sleeve, "…why can't you do it? With things as they are, I shouldn't be asked for anything…"

Ken opened his mouth as if to respond but hearing the sadness in her voice forced him to reconsider otherwise. Normally if Miyako wanted any say in this, knowing her, she would have already dragged him down a path without his request. But something wasn't right, with Miyako or this silence. Tonight started out so happy. Ken wondered where it went wrong as he elected to proceed to the left, which seemed like the straighter path home.

It was impossible to tell through the dense brush how late the night had become. How long had they been away from the Festival? One hour? Two? It could have been over. Ken imagined his parents running up and down the temple road, inquiring from every lingering person if they had seen Ken and Miyako somewhere at some point. His parents would be a frenetic mess until they found them.

Sorry, Mom, Ken thought ruefully, we promised not to leave the festival grounds, but…I'll explain one day. This and everything else.

Miyako asked to rest, so they stopped in a partially lit patch and sat beneath a dead maple tree. Moisture wetting his brow, Ken brushed the sweat from his forehead—tonight had been unrelentingly humid, though typical for the August spectrum of summer. He looked over at Miyako, staring into a world of her own devise so it seemed. The gentle curls in her hair had leveled out, he noticed. Her usual straight strands returned, drooped and stuck flat against her moist skin.

I hope she's okay, Ken thought, this isn't like her.

Sure, she smiled a little as they were escaping Mummymon, but soon after, the grins fell and she became this other, unfamiliar Miyako—all too quiet, timid, and dejected. For all his concern, however, Ken had no remedy for her, except patience.

Crickets filled out the silent moments. With their individual insect rhythms chirping out at varying pitches, it almost seemed like they were sending messages. To each other? Logic and science would attest to that. Or were they communicating with Ken? For an instant, despite all reason, Ken considered that yes, they were, and the persistent cricks were sounding like encouragements to Ken to talk to Miyako. Then again, maybe Ken was feeling the effects of an overheated, tired mind.

Cricket messages or no, just talking with Miyako was a good idea. Better than worrying himself trying to figure out what was wrong. Better than silence.

However, before Ken could even string a sentence together into thought, Miyako broke her silence. She had been quiet earlier, her voice raised at just above a whisper, that the sound of her normal voice startled Ken.

"Ken, I'm sorry—" Miyako quickly blurted.

"For what?"

Ken had no idea what she was referring to and his bewildered expression marked that.

"Everything," Miyako had yet to look at him, her face pensive and drawn to stare forward. "For Mummymon, for being a burden on you, for getting lost…"

Ken quietly laughed.

"Ken! I'm serious!"

"Is this why you've been so quiet? Because you're upsetting yourself over nothing?" Her eyes blinked rapidly as Miyako watched Ken lean back against the maple's trunk and stare up into the trees. He seemed relieved, at ease for once since they left the clearing. "You apologized for Mummymon already, remember?"

Miyako nodded. "But everything after that is still my fault because I ran after him." Bunching the skirt of her yukata, the morning glories wilting in her hands, Miyako began to sob, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks, "I ran off. If I had taken the time to think for one second—"

Ken tried to get one word in edgewise but Miyako wasn't listening, spouting off every thought she tried to keep to herself so far like a knocked over glass spilling its full contents off a table side.

"Miyako…" Ken said in a soothing tone. He couldn't stand seeing Miyako scared, frantic, and crying. "It's all right. I don't blame you for anything." He cupped his hands lightly on her quivering shoulders, "We're just a little lost now, but this is _nothing_ compared to what we go through in the Digital World. There's no reason to be afraid here."

Silence. A moment to recompose, and with an agreeing tilt of her head, Miyako dried her eyes and ran her hands down her flushed cheeks, "Sorry, Ken. I guess I lost my head there for a bit."

Miyako smiled and laughed at herself, placing her hand behind her head as an omission of shame for how she overreacted. Lost my head? More like rocketed into the stratosphere, she thought.

And then, suddenly, Ken remarked, there was the Miyako he recognized. Ever the little firecracker bursting with energy, she was up and ready to go, saying they were not getting anywhere just sitting around, so let's go, 'kay? He admired her resilience—once she was over a problem, that was it and she was okay again. Well, after a bit of panicking that is, but Ken had already proven that he could handle her moods and idiosyncrasies.

"By the way, I think I can manage from here on my own, okay? My ankle was just sore, I think. Thanks for helping me this entire time. I really appreciated the help."

"Well, if you think you can…" Ken reluctantly moved back and studied her as she took one step forward. It was all too obvious to Ken that Miyako tried to hide her slight limp. "Are you sure? You still aren't thinking you're a burden or anything?"

"I'll be okay. Honest, I will. So let's go already." She placated his doubts, for now, with a smile and a stronger second step.

Ken shrugged his shoulders and traveled beside her back into darkness. Neither knew if they were going the right way or which way was correct. It didn't matter, as long as they were together. Eventually the forest would end and they would wind up somewhere, hopefully near the festival.

At least now things seemed back on track. Miyako was Miyako again. And Ken could finally think of nothing but enjoying her company.

"Doesn't this remind you of the haunted forests in the old folktales? Merchants take a shortcut in the forest but the road is longer than expected, so they rest. Night falls and thieves kill them. In the morning, the merchants get up like nothing's happened and wander forever, not even realizing they've died. So scary, right?"

Ken shuddered. "Don't talk like that, Miyako."

"It's just a story," Miyako giggled, "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little stor… Wait. Do you hear that?"

"You're just trying to scare me," Ken said. "It's not funny."

"No, I _really_ heard something. Listen. Do you hear it too?" A pause fell between them. "Sounds like a taiko drum, doesn't it?"

Miyako was correct. In the distance, Ken heard the deep call of the single taiko drum perched atop the wooden yagura scaffold for the Bon Dance. They were closer to the festival than they thought. Utilizing the drumbeat as their guide, they proceeded through the woods quickly. In time, the trees and brush thinned considerably, allowing for the moon's light to finally seep visibly through. The distance was dwindling but they wondered why there were not any more signs of the festival. Surely a remote lantern's light?

No lantern, but a river. Miyako and Ken stood stranded on the wrong side of the riverbank, the festival tantalizingly close, and the resonant taiko teasing them. Here, where the water was swift and the opposite bank's angle was too steep and crumbly, was not a good place to cross, but perhaps upstream, the river would be vein-thin. Or so Ken speculated.

"Y'know…" Miyako said after they had continued quite a ways along the riverbank, "Despite of some things going bad, tonight's gone well, don't you think?"

Ken nodded in agreement, "It's been an interesting Obon."

"Not a boring Obon at all." Miyako singsoned. She briefly looked at Ken, her eyelashes fluttering for an instant, and then stared at her feet as a subtle, arched smile slowly broadened through her lips "…Ken, when you charged Mummymon…that was pretty cool."

His eyes widened. Did Miyako just say what Ken thought she said?

Maybe it had been cool. Ken hadn't imagined it so. Reckless? Maybe. Stupid? Perhaps. Worth it? Every second. But cool? Ken wasn't so sure. He only did what had to be done, what was right, what was whatever he could do in half a split-second to protect Miyako. That's all that mattered to him in that crazy moment.

So what then if it _was_ cool?

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." Ken humbly replied. There was a partial hint of a faint laugh in his voice toward the end.

"What else would you call it?" Miyako playfully narrowed her eyes. "You really don't take compliments well, do you?"

"Neither do you." Ken teased as Miyako raised an annoyed but questioning brow at him. "You didn't believe me when I told you that you were cute tonight."

"Well, that's diff—" she grew flustered and, though she was trying her hardest to produce one, she couldn't fire a retort. First her cheeks and then her whole face turned the color of Aquilamon's feathers, "I was…it's _just_ _different_, Ken!"

Sure it is, read Ken's smile.

Miyako pushed his shoulder back, "Stop grinning at me like that! Come on, Ken... Quit teasing me."

"Okay, but I wasn't lying then or now, but you'll believe otherwise until…" his voice trailed as he noticed movement ahead on the river. "Hey, _look_!" Ken pointed upstream.

In the distance were soft white lights. At first, neither Miyako nor Ken understood what was occurring. Drifting along languidly, the box-shaped lanterns remained unclear until the figures of the boats became apparent. These were the lanterns guiding the dead. Many new people had died this year, evident in the large number of white lanterns passing by, released first as was customary. But soon lanterns of vibrant reds, demure oranges, spirited yellows, and even the occasional pallid lavender trickled into view.

"So pretty…" Miyako said softly in wonder, "It all feels like a dream."

Ken nodded silently.

It is a dream, isn't it? Ken reasoned. In a sense, it is. All we have is right now. One night. When the festival is over and we're home again and stalls and stands are all being disassembled and stored, we'll be awake by then. By morning, everything will be back to normal. Including us. And all we'll have left will be hazy memories of the night before.

"I've really enjoyed hanging out with you. We never got to before, y'know." Miyako said as she focused her attention upstream. "I think this has been my favorite part so far."

It's been a crazy night, though the highs outnumber the lows so you won't hear me complaining. Ken placidly watched Miyako as she observed the new lanterns rolling over the water's horizon. And it's all because of Miyako. She's a bit unpredictable but not inconsistent. Miyako isn't perfect—neither am I—but at least she tries and gives one hundred percent always no matter. Maybe she does talk a lot, but it doesn't bother me since she means everything she says and that's better than how some people speak. Really, her babble is cute.

Ken considered stepping closer to her but backtracked to their friendly distance between one another.

In the time we've been together, now and in the Digital World, I've been…I've been drawn to her. Not in just a sense of a physical attraction, it's certainly more than that. I only haven't pinpointed why out yet. I don't know…it's all so complicated. Kind of like Miyako.

All I know for certain is that if I hadn't gone with her, I would have missed out on everything.

The candlelight wavered hypnotically inside the coasting paper lanterns. Back and forth the tiny fire danced as sputtering shadows flickered against the walls of thin paper. Ken imagined himself and Miyako projected in the lantern's light. At first the images on the paper walls were nothing more than blurry shapes as if Ken was looking through a thin piece of an onion's skin. And then as his mind took control and lifted the figures into the air, the forms were given features and definition. Ken finally stood mere inches beside Miyako. He took her hands, those ever warm hands, and buried his fingers in them.

Ken smiled and replayed the fantasy again, then once more for good measure. Just one more chance to hold her. It was all he ever wanted since the first time he found his hand in hers. Satisfied, he was ready to end his reverie but his mind scooped up his thoughts and ran with the daydream a little more.

As Ken once more held her hand, Miyako blushed and looked away. Sliding a hand behind the light purple curtain of hair hiding her face, he gently pulled her hair away and over her shoulder. A small segment of hair stole away from the group and dangled between them. Running its length enfolded between his index and middle finger, Ken paused at the last few inches and curled her hair around his index. Curls…it's how tonight got its start, isn't it? If it wasn't for a few simple twists, Ken may have never finally seen Miyako anew. Ken slipped the stray strands behind her ear. Miyako was looking at him. Ken matched her gaze, leaned forward, and kissed her.

_Kissed? _

Ken, his cheeks red, quickly looked over at Miyako and then away. She hadn't noticed. Her gaze still remained upstream while she, as Ken assumed he heard correctly, looked for her grandmother's lantern.

Did he really just imagine kissing Miyako? Seemed true. He had to admit that it wasn't exactly something he did not already want to do, but at this stage it wasn't a possiblity. He couldn't even bring himself to hold her hand! How then was he supposed to _kiss_ _her_?

Maybe he was expected to follow his fantasy. Yea, sure. Except the fact remains that the difference between fantasy and reality is clear: they're completely separate matters. In fantasies, everything goes smoothly and turns out perfect, that old happily ever after deal. Reality can go that way too but it has the option of not as well. Generally it's a fifty-fifty shot but if anything went wrong—like if Miyako didn't reciprocate—he'd lose Miyako. At worst, there goes a friend. At best, they'd have to get used to a silent, subtle awkwardness in the air for a while. And even if Miyako brushed it off, Ken would remember. He'd still feel odd around her for weeks on in.

Yet it was worth trying, right? Ken could contemplate the possibilities all night but the truth was that what happened after the kiss was still out of his control. And there's no sense in fearing what's out of your hands, Ken reasoned. I know what will happen if I don't. Nothing. We continue on the same. So I might as well kiss her and see how it goes.

"We can use the lanterns to return to the festival," Ken threw out matter-of-factly.

"Oh, that's right!" Miyako turned around. "Let's go then. If you're ready that is…"

Ken made no inclination he wished to stay. Miyako started to leave.

"Just a moment," Ken said.

Ken held his hands folded at his sides. He steeled his nerves. Whatever happens, happens, he reminded himself and he took the first step toward Miyako. As the lanterns continued to pass by, Ken and Miyako stood before one another, their figures cast in a warm vanilla glow. Fireflies that until now had been sleeping and sparse flitted about wildly dancing, twinkling a myriad of yellow-green flashes around them.

"Yes, Ken?" Miyako asked, slightly surprised and addled.

False-starting a sentence more than once, he paused frequently, but never formed any words. It doesn't have to be perfect, just say what you feel, he told himself. Tell her the truth. Tell her that, at least on his side, things have changed between them. Tell her that all night you've been trying to decide what she means to you. Tell her that this has been a wonderful night and that you want to spend more time just the two of them together.

Ken thought about kissing her. He _wanted_ to kiss her. He tried to but he was too slow. Ken was leaning inch-by-inch toward her, his heart pulsating rhythmically. Miyako as well seemed drawing closer to him until she appeared to change her mind and promptly pulled away.

"We should get back…" Miyako said without delay, the red deepening through her cheeks.

Reluctantly, he agreed. Ken straightened, considering it had been for the better that he hadn't kissed her. The whole idea had been bad from the start. What was he thinking? Ken lingered behind Miyako as they followed the lanterns back to the festival.

Seems they weren't as late as Ken thought. They returned just at the closing ceremonies for the Obon Festival. Amid the flurry of colored yukata, Ken and Miyako stood listening to the beckoning of the taiko drum draw to a close and watched the Bon dancers take their bows. Amid the crowd of parents and children, couples young and old, solo spectators, Miyako's sisters, and Ken's own parents, Ken only needed to be surrounded by Miyako. He ran his eyes up the tall, decorated yagura and stopped at the full moon with its silvery halo beaming.

And then, the fireworks started.

Shrieking streaks jetted into the night sky and burst forth popping and crackling with color. Miyako's eyes brightened as she and many others cheered. Ken silently watched her and smiled and then too gazed at the show.

Maybe the kiss thing didn't work out as he hoped. It was too forward anyway.

But holding hands, that wasn't too direct, now was it?

Ken quickly checked and saw her hand resting at her side. He clenched his right hand tightly. Do it, he ordered himself. _You have to._ He relaxed his hand and gingerly raised it toward hers. He flinched only once hovering inches above her skin but quickly recovered and clasped her hand.

Miyako, oblivious to anything but the fireworks so far, jumped at Ken's touch. He had no idea what she was thinking as she looked down at their hands and then back at him. Ken was crestfallen as she slipped her hand away.

But not for long.

Miyako merely changed their grip, his fingers slipping perfectly between the spaces in hers. Nothing needed to be said. He understood from the look in her sweet eyes everything she wanted to tell him. In turn, Ken replied with a gentle nod. Their eyes eventually drifted upward to the brilliant variegated chrysanthemum bursts blooming in the air.

Love is something people have to foster and that takes time. Sure, Ken didn't get to kiss Miyako and live happily ever after but he could wait. They just were not ready yet but they will be one day. There were still many, many sweet moments between them ahead, Ken was certain and maybe, just maybe, Miyako knew as well.

So really, tonight is not the end.

This is only the beginning.

—end story


End file.
